


A Thousand Years

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [44]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, F/M, Minor Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-07-23 00:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20000845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: It was going to be a good day, even if he felt that he was going to throw up from anxiety or apparate away to avoid the shame of being left at the altar in front of a large portion of wizarding Britain.She could be more of a Slytherin that he was most days, but he'd never considered his position as the Slytherin Prince was threatened.They were getting married, so at least he'd save face.





	1. All Of My Doubts

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Thousand Years](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/502378) by Christina Perri. 



> I seem to have rediscovered my love for Dramione and other pairings in general. It started with Traditions by raven_maidem and Second Look by River Writer and spiraled out of control, sweet lord. My arms hurt and I've been working late into the morning on these stories. 
> 
> Be prepared for the wave coming!

Draco stood at the altar alone, his stomach turning uncomfortably in fear and trepidation. What if she didn’t come? What if everything fell apart? The Dark Mark’s scar on his arm itched like hell all day and every day since he’d asked her. 

_ She’ll come, Draco _ is what Blaise, his best man, and only groomsman, said. _ It’s fine. _

It had meant a lot that he was there to calm him down and keep him from freaking out no matter how much he wanted to. There was no one else there to represent his life, his side of the hall was empty and he was okay with that. Every invitation he’d sent had come back unopened he was sure. After the first ten, he just stopped counting and let the tally accumulate on the enchanted parchment Hermione had created to help plan the wedding. Shunned and shamed, just a normal Ministry employee, a researcher for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement dealing with the misuse of potions and botanicals, he was a Malfoy in name only. He’d gone from having the world on his side, even after the war, to having no one but Blaise, his wife, and Hermione.

_ Andromeda, Teddy, and Harry are on your side,  _ Hermione had said.

Andromeda, maybe, she was his aunt. Teddy was a child and didn’t know much except the fact that Draco made funny faces when he pulled on his hair and nose. 

Harry was on  _ her _ side. She always rolled her eyes when he pointed out that he and the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice were not exactly on good terms. They weren’t at each other’s throats all the times and they were more than cordial at work, but they certainly weren’t best mates.

_ At least you won’t look like a fool when she leaves you. _

Hermione and her mystery, wizarding,  _ fairy godmother _ had chosen his dress robes from the finest dress robes shop in France. He didn't know how much they cost, only that she had been invited and that he would have to thank her for taking on the role that his own mother hadn't deigned to take. 

_ Don’t think about it, Draco,  _ he thought.  _ They would just have to deal with missing their son’s wedding. _

He smoothed his robes with a bit of smile on his lips. He was extraordinarily pleased when they'd arrived because of how closely they resembled a tuxedo and nodded to several pureblood traditions that he knew about, from the placement of his family colors in his cloak to the classic buttons and ties forming a straight line just to the left of his centerline. It was a happy medium between the only photo he'd ever seen of his parents' wedding and everything he'd liked about Hermione’s father's attire at her parents' wedding. He hoped that it made her happy and that was why she chose them. With their marriage, they were bridging the wizarding world with her non-magical heritage, her world and his to create the world they would live in and raise their children in.

_ If she still comes. _

On the other side of the hall were all the people that she’d touched in their short lives save the one who would be walking her down the aisle. He recognized a few faces in the crowd from the Ministry and their days at Hogwarts and was sure that they were thinking along the same lines he was.

How ha d he’d gone from getting punched in the face in third year to waiting at the altar for her?

_ You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach! _

He smiled at the memory. It had been a misunderstanding, but he enjoyed seeing her riled and had simply egged her on like a stupid boy who didn’t know how to do anything but the pull pigtails of a girl he thought was pretty.

Merlin, he always thought she was pretty, from her rich brown skin to the end of her most unruly section of curls, even when her teeth were a bit too big for her mouth. After the war, he’d dropped all pretenses and apologized, hoping that now that they were colleagues and worked together rather often, they could come to terms. She was the head researcher for the Auror Corp without specialization, his superior, and he didn't truly want to have any grudges still between them. Besides, her testimony had gotten him and his family out of an extensive sentencing to Azkaban or the Dementor’s Kiss. 

She only smiled and declared that they should start with a clean slate.

It had been one complex case that had brought them together on friendly terms and from there it had spiraled into calling on one another for a second opinion and lunch debates on aspects of cases, politics, literature, and whatever they wanted to talk about. Before he realized it he’d asked her out properly-- pureblood courting traditions and all-- and she’d said yes.

He’d never dated anyone who enthralled him the way Hermione did, and he’d never been as nervous as he was right now. Even meeting Voldemort for the first time and receiving the Dark Mark didn't seem so nerve-wrecking. 

Merlin, if she didn’t come he didn’t know what he would do. Surely, she was going to come. Surely, he wasn’t the only one who had been so deep in this, who had given everything he had to give for the future they might have together.

_ But what do you have to offer her now?  _ Draco asked,  _ A Ministry employee’s salary and an old house on Spinner’s End? _

In the face of all that she was, he had nothing. He couldn’t breathe, and he felt Blaise put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Breathe, Draco,” he said, low and careful. “The guests aren’t even fully seated.”

“I’m fine.”

He scoffed the way he always did when Draco was lying and they both knew it. He thanked his constellation that of everyone that he'd wanted there that at least Blaise was there to keep him held together.

The Weasleys had come to his surprise. Even Ronald who looked about ready to hex him as he was to leave was there. Molly looked no better, but Arthur sat looking up at the altar with a pleasant smile. Ginny sat among them looking as though it was physically painful to be there. Luna, Blaise’s wife, served as Hermione’s maid of honor and only bridesmaid. It seemed that half the magical world had shown up to watch their wedding. 

To watch Hermione, the Golden Girl, the Brightest Witch Of Her Age, the Brains Of The Golden Duo, marry a Slytherin Death Eater. 

He swallowed the jolt of pain that went through him at the thought. Would that thought  _ ever _ cease to come to him? Would they one day be old with grown children, at their children’s wedding, perhaps, and he would still be waiting for her to leave him?

He shuddered at the thought,  _ She'll come, Draco. Don't be such a coward. _

Finally, the last of the guests were seated on Draco’s side for lack of space, and soon every seat was filled in the large tent save the two ornately sectioned off seats in the front row on both sides of the aisle. 

The two seats on her side with the Gryffindor crest on the backrests and twined in red and gold ribbons were for her parents as he suspected the other two were for his parents who had made it abundantly clear that they wouldn’t be coming from their last conversation and the lack of reply. More people stood in the back and on the edges waiting for the ceremony to begin. They were all there to see it, to watch the spectacle, the final blow of the war maybe, to the once-great Draco Malfoy.

They weren’t the first marriage after the war was over. Hell, it had been over for years, but they were the first of the Golden Trio to be married after the war and the most high profile given his and his family’s position during the war and in the news over the last few years.

_ Draco Malfoy: Disowned? _

The headline still made him shudder even though he was impressed that the Daily Prophet had gotten all of the details right for a change.

Suddenly, the music began, and Draco prepared to apparate out of shame and dare Blaise to try talking him out of jumping, wandless off a bridge or running back to Malfoy Manor to marry whatever woman his parents deemed appropriate, beaten down and wounded. He’d drink himself to death within a week and leave the world without ever giving his parents what they wanted from him.

_ Here it is. _

_ She isn’t coming.  _

_ Merlin, she’s absconded off with Potter for another adventure or worse to laugh.  _

_ She's going to leave me standing here with all of her guests. _

_ Sweet Merlin, she's going to back out. _

It seemed that every breath, every hour, and every heartbeat had come to this after the war and then time stood still and every doubt he’d had leading up to this moment vanished.

She was coming.

He could see the pair walking down the path at a practiced and comfortable pace. Harry’s unruly hair and his terrible glasses didn’t seem so terrible, or maybe Draco hardly noticed it beside the much smaller silhouette beside him. 

The woman that time had brought him despite all of his mistakes. 

The woman who would be his wife. 

People turned around, maybe as shocked as he was to see her in a wedding gown that was decidedly a mix between non-wizarding and wizarding. Delicate golden lace over her deep brown skin across her shoulders, down her arms and across the bodice of the dress that was fitted to her body and sprinkled with scattered flecks of gold. A trail of it curved around the fabric around her hips and disappeared behind her. Something golden twined through her hair caught the soft evening light. The late evening light set a warm golden red glow in her curls that were twisted up into an elegant knot and cascading down behind her. She wore no veil over her face but a gossamer cloak of Gryffindor red and gold fluttered off her shoulders and seemed inlaid. His own cloak had a tasteful touches of green alongside its black at her insistence that they use, at least, the traditions he knew about and she could confirm with her fairy godmother. He smiled at the touches that would have made his mother proud in their understated elegance and subtlety. The light made the white, red, and gold sing, and with its song, he couldn’t breathe as they came towards him.

She was beauty in all she was.

Every heartbeat brought her one step closer to him and to their future. He heard nothing beyond the sound of that future and thought he'd waited at least a thousand years for this day.

“ _ Dio, _ ” Blaise gasped behind him. 

“Shove off, Zabini,” Draco whispered back, “You’re already married.”

Blaise chuckled behind him as they grew close enough that he could see that mischievous little smirk on her face. He had never wanted so badly to kiss her as he did at the moment, even when they argued about the merits of dried and fresh wolfsbane in various potions paled in comparison to this. Harry stopped before him, his green eyes glittering in his light brown face as Draco extended his hand to her. Harry didn’t let her go, and she looked at Harry with a question in her eyes.

Draco glowered at him, “Shove off, Potter.”

Hermione laughed, “Be nice, Draco.”

“Malfoy,” Harry began. They met each other’s gaze, “I’ll kill you, and no one will care.”

Draco’s lips twitched as Hermione hissed at Harry, “ _ Harry. _ ”

“You’d have to beat me to it,” Draco replied. 

Her head whipped back to him, “ _ Draco. _ ”

Harry nodded, seemingly satisfied. He kissed Hermione’s cheek and released her hand to go take his seat in the front row on her side in front of the Weasleys as Draco took Hermione’s hand and helped her onto the altar to beside him.

“You will not mention such things again,” she said with a displeased tilt to her lips, “It is not a joke.”

He knew why she was so displeased, but he understood even more why he had to tell Harry the truth. She had nearly lost Harry to the bridge leading into Hogwarts several times over their career at Hogwarts, and Blaise had stopped him forcefully more than once to plummeting down the same height. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, breathless as they looked up at Kingsley together.

She sighed and smiled at him, “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Kingsley smiled and began to officiate the ceremony, but Draco couldn’t hear a thing he was saying and it didn’t matter until they turned towards one another and Kingsley called for any protests from the audience. He wondered who had been forcibly silenced and stuck to their seats, but he heard nothing and Hermione didn’t look away from him to check either. Seeing her smile and the almost bashful look she gave him was enough to make him smile and his heart race at the prospect of forever with her.

He felt his face burning as hot as his magic in his chest wanting to claim her as his own but forced it down. Draco forced himself to be patient. He had waited his entire life for this and they were just moments away from the moment that would mark the rest of their lives together.

He could wait.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

He’d thought a long time about how he wanted their first kiss as wife and husband to go. Passion came to mind but didn’t feel right. Out of all the options, he supposed it was his deeply buried romantic side that made it so that Draco found himself cupping her cheek, maybe more intimately than she expected because her eyes widened. 

“I love you,” he whispered and kissed her, his fingers just barely digging into her hair as he took her mouth the way he’d been too nervous to do for weeks. 

He heard clapping and catcalls from the audience, and Teddy's shriek of joy from somewhere in the crowd. The night was filled with the sounds, but his world was filled with her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the ground. Tasting the freshness of mint on her tongue along with the ease of the rest of their lives, Draco’s heart felt like it was made of lights. As they pulled apart, just far enough to press their foreheads together, she laughed and looked into his eyes. The bits of her cloak he could see had replaced that brilliant red with his family’s deep green and he suspected that his cloak had traded Malfoy green for Gryffindor red.

“I love you,” she said.

Unable to resist, he kissed her nose, “So… that mean I actually get to see what’s under these robes?”

“ _ Draco _ ,” she hissed at him as he laughed and hugged her close, sighing into her shoulder. She chuckled, “How many people expected me to leave you at the altar?”

“Probably the whole group plus one.”

She froze in his arms, turning her head, “What?”

“I can’t say that I would have blamed you. Merlin knows, I would have deserved--”

She pressed a finger to his lips, “Those were the last doubts you were allowed to have about whether or not I want you,  _ husband _ . Understand? We have a very long life to live together from here on and I won’t have you wondering for the rest of our lives.”

His lips twitched and he kissed her finger, “Promise.”

They walked back down the aisle and the space transfigured itself for the reception. He knew they didn't get the tent that came with the sort of spells that were being enacted so he could only guess that Hermione had laid the groundwork while he wasn’t paying attention as very few people had actually been willing to help set up. 

He nodded at old Professors, hugged Teddy and Andromeda, and sat through the speeches. To his surprise, Blaise's speech was thoughtful and sincere. He couldn't do much else but hug his best man even if it was only because Draco's speech had been  _ brilliant _ at the man's very lively wedding at the Zabini Estate. 

Their first dance was a waltz in the center of the floor, and her father-daughter dance was filled in with Harry, holding her close and letting her cry softly into his shoulder as he led her through it. Eventually, the tears stopped and she looked ready to lay the memory of her parents to rest. As she said, they wouldn't want her sobbing for their absence on her wedding day. The first song Hermione played from her stereo, to his understanding, was the first song that played at her parents' wedding, an old pop song from younger years.

_ But my life is incomplete and I’m so blue  _

_ ‘Cause I, ooh, I can’t get next to you. _

_ I can’t get next to you, babe. _

The bittersweetness of what the song meant was quickly lost as he joined his wife on the dance floor for the next song. He would lay the thoughts of his parents to rest because they didn't deserve a moment of his happiness if they weren't willing to understand him and accept that he’d found happiness outside of their small world.

He danced with Hermione, Harry and anyone else who wanted to join them to a rhythm that would have never existed in the wizarding world. It was fast, fun and sensual. He recognized it from the first time she took him on a tour of a club that served people from both sides of the divide of secrecy. It had been racy and sexy then, but they maintained a sense of decency at the reception which was more than he could say about he and Hermione's comportment at the club. He’d had so much fun that they made it a point to go regularly as she loved to dance and he loved to let her teach him every  _ unrefined  _ way of movement she wanted. 

Harry stole a dance from him sometime in the middle, after she'd danced with Teddy and he with Andromeda, leaving him to get a drink and run into Ronald who was already half-drunk. 

_ Poor sod. _

“Malfoy,” he spat out, “Don’t imagine that you have me fooled.”

There were a million things that he could have said, but he turned his gaze to where Hermione and Harry were dancing some dance he’d never seen before and seemed to be special to them. Ever since they went overseas to find people who could potentially be related to Harry, they had a new light in their relationship that had made Draco jealous if only because he didn’t speak Spanish or Portuguese. The Alfareros were nice people, though, and they had been more than willing to help them set up for the wedding. He saw Harry's distant cousin and her husband joining Harry and Hermione on the dance floor with a spirited laugh in a quick dance that looked more like they were sashaying, fighting with their feet, and stirring up the air with their hips.

_ Bachata? Meringue? Salsa?  _ He couldn't remember, but he it hardly mattered.

He imagined one day having a special dance with her and being able to speak to her in every language she spoke, to know what the little curses she uttered meant without having to ask. He imagined fixing up the house at Spinner’s End and maybe renting it out when they outgrew the house or growing old in the house that his godfather gave him because he knew the path that Draco would take. He imagined having children with their combined wit, his ruthlessness, her cunning, their love of books, his penchant for flying, and her thick curls in his platinum blonde. 

He imagined eventually having to add a room to the house to be their library because their children needed bedrooms. He imagined the years before them and sending their kids off to Hogwarts together. 

He imagined this feeling in his chest for the rest of his life and filling their home on Spinner’s End.

He smiled. 

Ronald wasn’t worth ruining the happiest day of his life.

No, he wasn’t worth a moment more of his time.

“Enjoy the firewhiskey, Weasley.”

Ronald’s jaw dropped as if he’d been slapped in the face, and he crossed the dance floor to his wife as Harry spun her out and around to the sensual rhythm of the song. 

“May I cut in?”

Harry laughed and spun her into his arms, “Gladly, Malfoy. Just remember that I need her back,”

He smirked, “I’ll think about it, Head Auror Potterr. Your drink, love.”

She lifted the glass from his hand and drank, leaning into him, “Not done dancing yet.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “I’ve partied with you.”

She grinned, her eyes bright and her curls breaking free from the delicate golden wreath in her hair. They danced together for hours it seemed. Harry snagged his date from his seat with a laugh. Not too far away Luna and Blaise were dancing and he thought that if he could have this for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t mind. 

An unnerving stillness filled the air, and before he could think, his wand was out and pointed at the source of the disturbance that came through the tent, but Hermione was just a hair faster encapsulating the two just as they entered. Harry had a shield up between the entrance and the rest of the party as everyone gasped. With a gasp of shock, Draco realized that the two who had been caught were his parents.

_ Merlin’s beard... _

Hermione didn’t lower her wand, neither did Harry as Draco stared at them confused at their appearance. They were dressed appropriately for a wedding. More importantly, they were  _ here _ at his wedding as if they expected to slip in unnoticed or had just come back from the loo . Narcissa looked embarrassed and slightly horrified, but Lucius remained silent and apparently cool. 

"I would have thought we taught you better, Draco," Lucius said somehow sounding only slightly disgusted, “Pointing your wand at guests.”

_ Really? _

“You taught me a lot of things,” Draco said wryly, lowering his wand, “Strange to see you avoiding them now.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened and she lowered her head apparently ashamed before meeting his gaze. 

“My formal apologies,” she said, “However, it was--”

“Hard for you?” Draco cut in, “Hard for  _ him _ ?”

Narcissa shut her mouth and lowered her head in the picture of despair as Lucius looked at him, “You have made your point, Draco. Your mother and I would like you to come home.”

“I am,” Draco said, stepping closer to Hermione and taking her by the waist, “If that is all you have to say, you can leave.”

“Draco, I--”

“I don’t,” Draco said and turned to the rest of the constituents, “Forgive the scare, everything is fine. The Malfoys were simply curious.”

Though he said it, Harry didn’t remove the ward. After a moment, Hermione took Draco’s hand and approached the barrier she’d erected. With her hand in his, she pulled Draco towards them. He watched his mother tense up and her eyes widen as Lucius tried to hide the anxiety in his eyes. 

His anger was understandable, but Hermione’s anger would be well and truly justified. He wondered what would happen to his parents when she kicked them out. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to say and hoped that her dismissal wouldn’t hit his mother too hard. 

_ Mercy, _ a part of him sneered,  _ They don’t deserve it. _

In all his thoughts and the tense moments leading up to Hermione stopping in front of them, he had never guessed that she would dissolve the wards that she and Harry had erected. Harry sputtered behind them in shock, and Draco's eyes widened. At that point, he was at a loss for what she could be ready to say.

“Lord and Lady Malfoy,” she said, “You had no need to hide your presence at the ceremony, nor earlier in the reception.”

Draco whipped his head to look at Hermione in shock. Narcissa’s eyes widened, and Lucius looked as though he’d been slapped. At least, he wasn’t the only person who had been shocked at her words

“What are you talking about, love?” Draco asked. 

Hermione squeezed his hand meaningfully, “However, I am glad that you found your seats easily enough. I hope they were comfortable.”

Lucius’ eyes widened as Narcissa’s mouth opened into a stutter. He looked between his wife and his parents unable to figure out what was happening. 

_ Seats? _ he thought and frowned, thinking back to the front row on his side and the two seats with the Malfoy crest was emblazoned on the backrests. He thought it had been a sweet gesture, but had never guessed that his parents had been there the entire time let alone at the reception.

“Draco loves you both, and as I love him, I have to keep him from doing things that may keep you separated for the rest of our lives. You are welcome here without reservations or conditions,” she gestured to the party and to the table that had been subtly left empty, draped in that same , silver that his half of the chairs had been draped in. The two chairs at the table had discreet emerald and black ribbons ties in the same manner as the ribbons on the seats during the ceremony as well as the Malfoy crest on the backrests. Two other chairs were there dressed in red and gold with the Gryffindor crest on the backrests, and there was, of course, two more chairs. One was decorated with emerald and gold and the other was decorated in red and black, “Your table, should you choose to return to it. Help yourselves to whatever you like.”

Draco had never been more turned on in his life, and he was itching to scoop her up and apparate away to anywhere else to snog her senseless and ask her a million and three questions. She looked at Draco and then to Harry who signaled the aurors in the room to relax. Hermione took his hands and pulled him back to the dancefloor. With a wave of her hand, the music turned back up. At her lead, the party continued. 

He felt them watching them, felt them standing in the entranceway of the tent, but he hadn’t expected the relief that came when they crossed the room to the table Hermione gestured to and sat down. They acquired themselves at least a glass of wine and settled in to watch the festivities quietly.

“How did you know that they would come?” Draco asked, “How did you know they were there, and what is this about customs?” 

“No matter what reservations they have against our relationship, you are their only son. Besides, they were the only people you sent a letter to that didn’t reply. Clearly, they were arguing about it. From the way you spoke about your mother and father, it was a safe bet that she would demand to come and your father would try to save face. I warded the seats in accordance with pureblood marriage traditions and the invitations of course.”

Draco frowned, “What? When was that a  _ tradition _ ?”

Hermione only grinned, “Maybe some other time, darling, or maybe, you’ll ask your mother. I certainly asked her a lot of questions.”

“You were keeping track?” he froze, “ _ You’ve spoken to my mother? _ ”

“Of course,” she laughed, “Who else could I ask about pureblood wedding traditions except for a pureblood. Arthur’s family never adhered to them, but I knew yours did.”

“H-How… What? How did they even get past security? How did you speak to my mother without her knowing, you little minx?”

Hermione laughed again, “I’ve had the tent warded so everyone could be guests not security for weeks including letting your parents in undetected if they wished. It was likely they’d want to be present for at least part of the festivities… I can only imagine that your mother demanded that they come back and show themselves properly. And in short, I ran into her in Diagon Alley.”

He stared at her meaningfully until she began to explain. 


	2. One Step Closer

Hermione cast her glamor and checked it in the mirror. It did just enough to change her appearance so that no one would recognize her, but it wasn’t nearly as invasive or dangerous as a transfiguration spell. She almost wished that she’d perfected it during the war. With a check of her list of things to procure and a kiss to Draco’s blond head, she slipped out of the large bath towel she had around her into the nicest robes she owned. Carefully, she undid her twists and twisted the waves into a knot out of her face allowing only half of her hair to fly freely behind her. She grabbed her nondescript bag, the second in her spree of making undetectably extended bags, and headed out to Diagon Alley with her wedding list. 

There were so many things on her list that Draco had been unhelpful with primarily because he just didn’t know.

_ Pureblood marriage traditions weren’t readily discussed with me, _ he said, and he’d only been to one pureblood wedding when he was just a child.

_ The mother of the groom took the lead on the preparations, _ he said and she’d held his hand knowing how much it hurt to think that his mother, the first love of his life, wouldn’t be involved in this page in his life. 

She’d offered the possibility of him writing to Narcissa with his questions, but he’d turned it down bitterly. 

_ She’s made her choice. It’s obvious or she would have contacted me. She’s always made her choice. _

She hadn’t been convinced of that, but she let it be because it was obvious that pressing on it wouldn’t do anything. She could be stubborn another day when the wound didn’t seem so raw for him. She had to figure out a way to fix it. They would be happy but Draco would never be whole without having his parents there. He’d given up a lot for them, taken on a lot, but it had been out of love no matter how his parents saw it and no matter what they disagreed about including her. 

_ Think about it later, Hermione.  _

She shook the thought out of her mind as she arrived in Diagon Alley and headed down to the specialty parchment shop that Andromeda had mentioned. She found it easily and froze, looking through the glass. 

_ Is that…  _

She knew that the Malfoys were bold, but to see Narcissa in the shop looking up at a wall of parchment under the banner that read “wedding” was a shock. She guessed that even with the papers talking about Draco’s disowning and the Malfoy family’s change, Narcissa wasn’t a woman to shy away from her place in wizarding society.

She ducked back away from the window and forced her heart to slow down. It was an unexpected chance, truly an unexpected chance, but how could she do this?

_Just go for it, Hermione_ , she thought. There was no time to try and plan. _Salazar’s cunning be with me._

The shop owner looked at her as she entered and gave her a tight smile. Her eyes drifted over Hermione’s robes with a calculating edge and Hermione knew immediately that she was probably in the right shop for the level of quality she wanted, but the wrong shop to expect ansense of respect.

_ Grin and bear it, Hermione,  _ she said,  _ Even if you were Hermione Granger right now, it wouldn’t make a difference, likely. _

From what she’d been able to get from Draco, going to a parchment store specifically for wedding announcements and invitations, the whole process of choosing every aspect of it instead of sending plain letters was a pureblood thing. People who walked into this shop probably had more money on them regularly than she made in a month. 

High born, wizarding nobility like Narcissa and Neville. 

Her lips quirked thinking of Neville being in the same class as Draco. The Longbottoms weren’t poor, but Neville had none of the sense of aristocracy as Draco had on a daily basis. 

_ Bloody prat. _

“Welcome,” she said, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well,” Hermione said, “I’m getting married.”

“Oh, how delightful! Where’s your mother?”

Hermione sucked in a breath, “She… is no longer with me.”

The woman flinched, “You poor dear, well, the cheapest parchment is towards the back of the shop and…”

Hermione had half a mind to slap the woman at the insinuation when Narcissa approached her. She linked arms with her and took her hand. 

_ What-- just go with it, Hermione! _

“There you are dear,” she said kindly meeting Hermione’s gaze, “Come along, I have a few already picked out to look through.”

The shopowner stammered, eyes wide as Hermione smiled at Narcissa and her heart sped up.

_ Roll with it! _

“I was worried that I was a bit early. Fantastic!”

Narcissa took her gently by the arm and led her towards the selection she’d been looking at. The shop owner, for whatever reason saw fit to shut her mouth for the rest of the time as Narcissa offered Hermione a few samples to examine. Her eyes were misty as she pulled her favorite parchment down from the wall. 

“This is the parchment maker, I favor,” she said, “It’s a formal announcement style that is very rarely used any longer save for old families.”

It was high quality and simple in its elegance. Hermione didn’t care about the price as she had plenty of money allocated for the wedding since they were holding it at the house on Spinner’s End, but she wasn’t surprised to find out how expensive it was.

“It’s lovely,” she said, “I think his mother would love it.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened, and they turned sad before smiling at her, “A woman of class.”

She bought enough for their wedding list and a few extra. After purchasing them, she placed them in her bag before walking out arm and arm with Narcissa out of the store as if they were related.

_ What now, Hermione? _

“You will have to forgive my meddling, dear girl. I just cannot believe that witch had the nerve to insult you that way. She deserved to be put in her place. I thought that shop was one of the highest quality parchment distributors in Britain, but it seems that I was mistaken.”

_ Merlin, you sound like you mother, _ she thought wryly and laughed, “Thank you, truly. I… was feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“Your mother-in-law will not be aiding you?”

_ So that’s really serious, _ she thought and steeling herself to do whatever she had to in order to make this work.

Draco might kill her, but maybe he’d appreciate it. 

_ Only one way to find out. _

She tilted her head, “My groom and his parents are… not exactly speaking at the moment. They don’t approve of us.”

“But you are getting married,” Narcissa said with wide eyes and glanced at the ring on her finger, “Surely they understand that this is not the time to be proud? Wizarding marriages made for the right reasons are rare and sacred for the wizarding world, especially after so much misfortune.”

Hermione shook her head, “They don’t know we’re getting married.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened, “What?”

She gave her a tight smile, “His parents were on the other side during the war. I have no family to speak of now. As far as I know, they want him to marry for contract.”

Narcissa looked away with guilt written all over her face, “That… must be quite a burden for you two, not just emotionally.”

She shook her head, “It is not so bad. We both work and are paid decently. His godfather left him property, so we don’t have to rent a venue. The rest will be manageable with decent planning.”

Narcissa sighed, “I am not sure how I would react if my son were to get married without me being involved, let alone not at the wedding. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”

“I don’t believe it will come to that,” Narcissa looked at her as she smiled, “You just saved a young woman from embarrassment. A woman like that is not one a good son would not at least invite to his wedding regardless of the strain between you… If he doesn’t, let me know, and I’ll set him straight.”

She laughed, and Hermione grinned, “Thank you, my dear. Are you headed home now?”

“Oh, no,” she said, “I was hoping to get a bit more picked up and sorted out.”

“Would you terribly mind company, dear?” Narcissa asked.

“Not at all,” Hermione said, “Please, call me, Mia.”

“Narcissa,” she said kindly, “What is next on your list?”

“Flatware,” she said, “You… wouldn’t happen to know much about wizarding noble traditions would you?”

Narcissa beamed at her, “I know quite a lot. If you are… amenable, I wouldn’t mind helping you plan a wedding that will help your endeavor to smooth the way with your soon-to-be in-laws.”

_ Got her. _

Hermione smiled, “I would be eternally grateful. My love is practically in the dark about his own family’s traditions.”

“Is he the firstborn?”

“He is and the only.”

She smiled, “Young heirs are blissfully kept unaware of the details as to keep them from making things more difficult than necessary. I can’t imagine what my husband would have done trying to plan our wedding.”

Hermione laughed at the thought of Lucius trying to choose types of parchment for their announcements, “Do tell.”

They spent a long day walking Diagon Alley for what Narcissa suggested as the best and no matter how many times Hermione insisted that she didn’t need to, Narcissa had insisted on paying for it. They ate lunch in wizarding France where she found out that Narcissa did not speak French. 

It was lucky that Hermione spoke it fluently. Narcissa beamed at her, and Hermione had the feeling that she’d won an unknowing ally against Lucius and Draco.

“Thank goodness, my dear. I hope my daughter-in-law is as versed in the language or we might have to include my son,” she shook her head and laughed, “I don’t believe he would fare well.”

“Well,” Hermione said, “I’m sure he inherits, at least, his strength from his mother.”

Narcissa smiled at her.

“And her kindness I’m sure.”

Narcissa chuckled, “You flatter me. Come, perhaps we could take a look at your gown and his robes, hm?”

She smiled and nodded, allowing her to guide her into a shop. Narcissa told her more about the minor details of pureblood traditions and Hermione had done her best to sneakily take notes on everything from the decorations to the use of enchanted robes for the ceremony. Men didn’t wear jewelry, like a wedding ring, but the bride was typically given an ancestral ring upon her first dinner at her groom’s family house after they were married and their marriage chest was placed in the vault. 

She had no idea how she was going to swing that, but she took note of it as well as the box she was meant to bring with her and the things that were meant to go into it. 

“The announcements should be sent to parents as a matter of course,” Narcissa said primly, “But they are not to respond.”

“Why not?”

“Their copy of the announcement is meant to complete the marriage box that goes into the family’s collection when it’s brought to the family house.”

“I see.”

“They are all near ancient traditions, but adhering to them is a marker of wizarding nobility from the Ancient and Most Noble to the Noble class families.”

Hermione nodded, “Do all families follow them?”

Narcissa gave her a decidedly Slytherin smirk and Hermione wondered if Draco had not inherited more than his strength and kindness from her, “Anyone who believes themselves to be of the wizarding upper class will to some extent. I suspect that your mother-in-law is one who will rue the day the invitations arrive and be quick to change her tune about her approval. Your beau’s parents will likely bend in the face of it or risk hearing about how perfectly traditional, elegant, and  _ tasteful _ the wedding is. Imagine them having to explain that they had no hand in it? The  _ scandal. _ ”

“I’m sure he’d relish the idea.”

“As should you,” she said, “If they cannot get out of their own way to acknowledge that their one and only son has chosen a remarkable young woman to spend his life with they deserve to bear the shame and ridicule of their contemporaries for the rest of their lives.”

_ Harsh,  _ Hermione thought and wondered if Narcissa would say the same thing if she knew that she was talking about herself.

They parted at the designated Apparation point in Diagon Alley and promised to exchange letters as  _ Mia _ continued to gather things for the wedding. Hermione promised her an invitation for everything that she’d done for her. Narcissa hadn’t asked who she was marrying, respecting her nervousness without talking to  _ her beau  _ about it. 

She would dare say that Narcissa thought of her as her own daughter though she found out so little about Hermione and her family other than the fact that she was from a fairly well to do family and her parents had been Healers who had been lost in the war. 

Draco was awake and drinking coffee when she returned beside herself with joy. She kissed him. 

“Hello, mon amor,” Hermione said, “Slept for quite a while, did you?”

“I did… Where have you been?”

“Shopping for our special day. I met a very… generous woman, a wizarding fairy godmother, who has promised to help me with the arrangements. I’m inviting her to the wedding.”

“Fantastic,” he said, “Anything I can do?”

“Get yourself measured at  _ Arc de Chartreuse _ .”

He frowned, “Who… did you meet in Diagon Alley?”

“A rather spiteful Slytherin who relishes the idea of making your parents have to squirm when people see how  _ perfectly traditional, elegant, and tasteful _ our wedding is,” she grinned, “She seemed positively ecstatic at causing your parents the embarrassment of having to admit that they had no hand in it.”

Draco grinned, “I like this woman.”

It was nearly a month later, several weeks until the wedding that she was ready to send out the invitations and prepared for the fight.

“What did you say?” Draco asked looking up as Hermione charmed the last invitation in the stack. 

“Your parents,” Hermione said, “This is their invitation and announcement.”

“That is sweet,” Draco said, “But it will be a waste the parchment.”

“Draco--”

“I know,” Draco cut her off, “I know why you are saying it, and I appreciate the sentiment but whatever relationship we had is gone.”

Their eyes met and she knew that now was the time to be stubborn for everyone’s sake. She had spent time with Narcissa, had even met  _ Lucius _ and shared a meal with the couple while Narcissa was helping her pick out the proper ribbons to twine the chair in and teaching her the wandwork for it. 

His parents were different people, entirely, and perhaps, if Draco was to ever meet them as Lucius and Narcissa, he could forgive them their faults. 

“I do not like that look on your face.”

“You will never forgive yourself if they have to hear about our wedding from the Daily Prophet.”

His eyes hardened as she placed the announcement between them, neatly sealed and enchanted the way Narcissa told her so that it showed the location without them having to open it so long as they agreed to come. 

“You will never be able to mend your relationship if you don’t try.”

“Why should I be the one to try?” Draco asked, “They are my parents and after everything… After--”

He stood up and turned from her, “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m not inviting them.”

Hermione left the announcement there and set the rest aside, listening to him leave the house and take off on his broom as she checked her lists and packed up her planning notes for the evening. 

When he returned she was on the couch, practicing the wand work to tie the ribbons properly and ward the parental seats. He was flushed, his eyes red as if he’d been crying and he came to her. She set the ribbon she was working with aside and wrapped him in her arms as he crawled onto the couch and lay against her. 

He sniffled, “They won’t come.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They won’t come,” he said, tightening his hand in her cloak, “Things won’t ever be just as they were.”

“Maybe not,” Hermione said and made him lift his head, “But maybe, they could be better.”

Draco searched her eyes

“But you won’t know until you try.”

In the morning, as she prepared to head to the owlry, she found Draco with his owl, Alexander, on his arm and the invitation in his hand looking out the window. 

The Malfoy Manor was far, but not so far that the invitation wouldn’t arrive in proper time. With a sigh, he looked at Alexander. 

“Take this to mother,” he said, “And come straight back, Alexander.”

He hooted and took the letter gingerly before flying off. 

“I won’t hang my hopes on this,” Draco said, “I won’t… I won’t let them ruin our day or the rest of our lives when they don’t come. I’ve done all I can.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, “That’s very noble of you, my Slytherin.”

“And you’re turning out to be very cunning, my Gryffindor,” he said and chuckled as he wiped his face, “What do we have to do today?”

“Ribbon practice!”

He groaned but conceded.


	3. Time Has Brought Your Heart To Me

“You little  _ Slytherin _ ,” Draco said amazed at Hermione’s proud smile, “You… you mean to tell me my mother helped you plan our wedding?”

“She did and your parents paid for more than most of it, down to your cloak, darling… She doesn’t know that yet though,” she nodded towards the table of gifts, “Something look out of the ordinary?”

He looked over, scanning the table. They hadn’t opened anything but soon his eyes found it, an elegant box that he hadn't noticed before and upon seeing it made his heart clench in his chest. Had they not come back he would have only seen it when they opened their gifts much later and probably cried his eyes out. He knew about the tradition that involved the passing of a box from parents to the newly wedded son. He had no idea what his parents put in the box, but it warmed his heart to see it and know that they’d been there the entire time as well as so inherently involved even if they hadn’t known it.

“Fuck,” he cursed blinking furiously and pulling her close, “You… bloody amazing woman.”

“You might be a family of Slytherins, but you’re all just  _ Hufflepuffs  _ on the inside.”

His jaw dropped, “You did  _ not _ call me a Hufflepuff!”

She shrieked a laugh as he dug his fingers into her sides. Slipping out of his grip, she escaped him and he gave chase around the tables like they were children. He cornered her across a table and grinned at her. 

“I am impressed you can move so quickly in those heels, my love, but I will catch you and you will pay for your infractions.”

“On your honor?” she laughed, “ _ Hufflepuff. _ ”

She squealed and ran around Harry and behind a wall of Aurors.

“I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be honorable!” Draco laughed as they blocked his path.

“Well, I’m an honorary Slytherin now. Professor Snape said so.”

He growled at her and looked at the row of Aurors, “If you would part the sea, gentlemen, my wife is behind you and I plan to have words.”

“Head Researcher Granger is under our protection at the moment,” one of them said. “Before we can release her to you, we’ll need something from you.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow at them as Hermione hissed at them, “ _ Boys. _ ” 

Harry held her back.

"Let it be,” Harry laughed. “You're family!"

"It is alright, love," Draco soothed with a grin. "Though their timing leaves something to be desired, I expected your aurors to do this."

If they hadn't, all the times they tried to thwart his courting efforts would have felt spiteful rather than out of any care for Hermione. They passed him a glass of firewhiskey and told him in no uncertain terms that they expected her to be on maternity leave in no less than a year, beautiful nieces to spoil, troublesome nephews to teach how to fly, and the happiest lead researcher that ever walked into the ministry, or they would end his life and take unbreakable vows not to reveal the location of his body.

“ _ Boys! _ ”

Draco cheered them for that, drank the alcohol, and grinned, "Though a year might be pushing it, you know how she is."

They laughed good naturedly and dispersed as she griped at them, "I am not a damsel or a vessel for your wishes just because none of you can snag a date!"

They laughed, walking off as Harry snickered and left Draco and Hermione alone. He secured her to him with an arm around her waist and a grin.

"Caught you," he said, " _ No mountain high enough. _ "

She chuckled at that and leaned into him, "Good to hear."

"How do you feel about kids?" He asked quirking an eyebrow at her, "A year? Three years from now?"

"Well, when we're reasonably established enough… I say I've always wanted kids."

"We'll try whatever we need to."

She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Words that had felt like a cruciatus curse from a night a long time ago went unsaid along with her bitter gasping and his furious wish to kill his already dead aunt and a werewolf that probably would have killed her if not for a twist of fate. 

"And… if nothing happens?"

"We'll adopt," Draco said easily.

She smiled at him and hugged him, "I love you."

They rocked together quietly and soon enough someone was tapping him on the arm. He turned his head to see Narcissa and Lucius there. He froze as she looked up at him.

"We're sorry to interrupt, but could you, Mrs. Malfoy, spare a dance for me?"

Draco's eyes widened as Narcissa and Hermione seemed to communicate silently between them.

"Of course, Lady Malfoy," she looked up at Draco who was more than hesitant to leave Hermione with his father.

"I assure you, Draco, that your father will behave."

He pressed a kiss to Hermione's temple protectively, hesitantly, and kept her pressed to his side as he met his father's impenetrable gaze.

"It'll be fine, Draco," Hermione said, holding out her hand to her father-in-law, "I don't believe Lord Malfoy would embarrass himself by being thrown out after their rather noticeable re-entrance."

Draco smirked and let her go. Lucius' jaw stiffened as he took her hand. Draco took his mother's and led her into a standard waltz.

"A fearsome woman you've chosen, Draco."

"Well, she is Hermione Granger."

"She… isn't taking your name?"

"Would it matter if she didn't?"

Narcissa shut her mouth maybe realizing she was edging towards a land mine. It was a marked improvement from the last conversation they had.

"It is a lovely celebration… Has been a lovely celebration. I can’t imagine having planned it better. I was… impressed that Blaise managed to say so many nice things about you."

Draco chuckled, “I’m sure he fears my wife’s wrath like the rest of the auror corp.”

She chuckled softly, and they fell into silence for a moment that seemed to heavy to be peaceful. 

“Thank you… for bringing it.”

Narcissa’s lips twitched, her eyes glazed over, “I… I am sorry that we made you think that we wouldn’t.”

Draco took a deep breath and smiled down at her lightly, “I… I missed you, mother.”

Her jaw trembled, and she wrapped her arms around him. They stopped dancing so she could just hold him and cry into his chest. Apparently, it was all that was necessary to break the tension between them. It felt like a deep sigh.

“I’ve missed you, my little dragon,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry. Oh, Draco, forgive me one day for being so foolish. Wasting such time on such foolish pride and missing so much… you have every right to be ashamed of me. I who claims to love you and have been so protected in your love for me.”

Draco closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back and fighting back his own tears. For all of the angry words that had passed between them, Narcissa had always been the light in his life, his peace and serenity, his understanding, when Lucius was simply too mean to him. He would always love her. One day, their argument and her absence during the planning wouldn’t hurt because it would be a long forgotten ache, like a scar that faded through the years and only served as a reminder that they had survived even that which should have been impossible. 

“You are not allowed to cry at the reception. What will people say Lady Malfoy?” he said and she laughed thickly into his chest, “But I will forgive you, just this once and grant you shelter to collect yourself.”

“Thank you for your graciousness,” she said, “Do you think you could forgive me one day?”

He hesitated and nodded, “I think so, mother.”

He pulled back and wiped her tears. Pressing a kiss to her cheek and meeting her gaze, “So long as you’re willing to try and understand us.”

Narcissa’s lips twitched, “If it means I’ll get to have you in my life, I’ll do anything.”

He grinned at her, “Let’s say we save father from my wife for a start?”

She grimaced, “You think it will be that bad?”

“She is a fearsome woman, is she not?”

He turned his head and went searching for them, but couldn’t find them on the dancefloor. His eyes scanned the area until he found Harry and two other aurors standing outside. Quickly, he led his mother across the tent and outside into the cool night air. Harry and the auror turned around before nodding towards the lake. He saw his father’s head of hair catching the light of the moon and led his mother forward. 

For all his fear, they seemed to simply be standing at the water’s edge a respectable and almost tense distance apart. Hermione had Draco’s cloak around her shoulders, and it billowed along with her gown in the moonlit air. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Draco asked. 

“Dunno,” Harry said, “But I’m only keeping an eye out in case Hermione feels the need to hex him.”

Draco snorted, “Wouldn’t want you to have to try and take her in for assault.”

Harry shuddered, “Neither would I. That woman could have my job on any day.”

Hermione turned to Lucius, looking up at him even though he would not look at her. A moment passed between them. Then, her laugh rang out in the night. 

“It’s the end of the world,” Draco said, “She’s laughing with my father.”

“I think it’s more  _ at _ your father,” Harry said. 

Hermione turned around and said something before walking back towards them. She smiled warmly as she approached them. 

“Lady Malfoy,” she greeted, “If I might have a word with you?”

“O-Of course, Mrs… Granger?”

_ Salazar’s beard, _ Draco thought shocked at his mother.

“Hermione,” she said, “If that is alright.”

“Narcissa then,” she said with a hopeful tone in her voice, “You are my daughter-in-law, after all.”

Draco smiled, proud of his mother as Hermione took her arm, kissed his cheek and told him to play nice. Something in her eyes said that they would talk later before she walked back inside with Narcissa.

“Don’t hex him too badly,” Harry said turning back into the party.

“You’re not going to stand guard?”

He scoffed, “You’re family. It’ll be written off as a disagreement, and I highly doubt your mother is going to let him press charges no matter what you do.”

With that Harry went back into the party and Draco took a deep breath and walked down to the lake’s edge to stand beside his father. 

“It is… more tasteful than I had hoped.”

“Mother instilled the importance of good taste in me early on… and my wife certainly is a woman of quality.”

Lucius remained quiet for a moment, “Do not blame your mother.”

Draco looked at him. 

“She brought it to me demanding that we come… She said she refused to miss your wedding day though she could barely bear the shame of not being involved in the planning.”

“She could have come alone.”

“She promised to divorce me if she had to come alone.”

Draco’s eyes widened looking at him.

“Though I am her husband, you are the love of her life, Draco,” he swallowed thickly, “There is nothing that I could deny your mother in the face of losing her.”

Draco nodded, “I know. She is the love of your life.”

“I can see that you are truly in love with… Ms. Granger.”

“What was your first clue?”

“You argued with your mother.”

Draco remembered it had been the hardest thing he had ever done and how much it had physically pained him to do so, but she and Lucius had given him no choice. 

It was his past or his future, his parents or Hermione. As far as he’d been concerned, the choice had been made long before he’d set his silverware down and the argument began. 

“I thought, perhaps, that Narcissa being against it would have kept you from pursuing her, knowing how much you love her… I had never imagined the day you would find a woman more important to you than your mother. I don’t believe she ever did either.”

Draco remembered the look of horror on her face, of fear and disbelief as he left the dinner table, packed his trunk, and left the manor without a glance back. He could imagine her waiting for him to come back. He remembered wanting to, but refusing to. He remembered throwing himself into his work and rationing his life as he lived with Harry at Grimmauld and visited Hermione at her flat. He’d learned a lot about himself and the truth about his wants living outside of the manor and, as far as he was concerned, he was better off for it.

He’d learned the meaning of true comfort and was sure that he could never go back to that brittle, cold world he’d lived in all of his life.

“Your mother was beside herself with melancholy waiting for you to come home. She would leave the manor for hours at a time, just wandering Diagon Alley hoping to run into you, to have a chance to speak with you. I told her that you would tire and eventually do so for months. I am sure now that she didn’t believe me. She met a young, charming woman in Diagon Alley and has been helping her with her wedding plans, and for a time, she seemed happier at the thought of helping a young witch deal with her soon-to-be in-laws in a much better fashion than she had been able to deal with her own. There was a fire in her eyes that I had not seen in years, and I can not be more grateful for Mia’s appearance in her life. I thought perhaps she would be distracted long enough for you to come home.”

Draco refused to smirk at the statement as Lucius let out a rattling breath as if he was reliving the worst moment of his life.

“Then, your announcement arrived by owl on parchment she would have chosen herself for your wedding announcements if given the chance,” his father’s voice cracked. “She refused to even  _ look _ at me.”

Looking at his father’s face, he realized that Lucius, while maintaining his regal air, looked a great deal older than he had in the days after the war, or even after getting released from Azkaban. Perhaps, he would never accept Hermione, but he would hold his tongue and bend to Narcissa for as long as she wanted to be in Draco’s life. At least until he learned that Mia was Hermione.

“I should have never asked you to take on the Dark Mark,” he said, “Even more so, I should not have tried to hold you back from the love you found when I, too, left home for mine.”

“You?” Draco asked, gawking at him.

“Do not sound so surprised, Draco,” he said, “While not as drastic as your defiance, my father and I, my grandfather and I, did not agree with what my future held. Your mother is a Black, yes, but my father and my grandfather were more interested in tying themselves into the Delacour family and expanding their power in France.”

He remembered wondering about that since it didn’t seem that Narcissa and Lucius had been betrothed. He wondered what Lucius had said to the late Lord Black to give his blessing when Lucius had all but walked away from the Malfoy legacy and wealth.

“Unfortunately, the stubborn old tyrants did not acknowledge that I was his only son and their only legacy until my grandfather was on his deathbed. My mother and father were a business arrangement, and their parents before that. It was considered a matter of course that marriage was a thing to be arranged between parents rather than love. They expected our relationship to end quickly with little damage to their chances of securing a better foothold in France. Called it a flame doomed to die, and they died not understanding why I had chosen your mother year after year. They died trying to drive us apart,” he blew out a breath. “There were many rights of passage that did not come about until you were born because of it, a wound that still haunts your mother to this day thought our parents are long gone from this world. I suspect it was a large part of why she took such a shine to Mia."

Draco could only guess. He had no idea how Hermione was going to tell Narcissa and Lucius that she was Mia and that Narcissa had gotten the chance she thought she missed for her pride. Draco wondered how long it took Lucius to cave, how quickly Narcissa packed the box to give him and ordered her and Lucius’ robes. He wondered what she said that allowed her to all but drag his father there with all the rites of passage she could muster to bestow upon them so that Hermione would never have to feel the way she had and Draco would never have to resent his father the way Lucius no doubt resented Abraxas and Draco’s great grandfather for denying Narcissa their blessing.

He could imagine Narcissa glaring up at his father.

_ Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, I have tolerated a lot but you will not stand in my way after everything we have been through together or you will be no better than your father and his father before him. So help me, I will leave you here with their memory and your pride! _

"I am grateful that it only took my wife rather than my dying breath to realize that there are, perhaps, more important things than power and getting what you want.”

“Perhaps?” Draco quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“Power is nothing without something to protect,” he said, “I sacrificed you because that is all my power afforded me. In doing that, I made the one person I wanted to protect above all else suffer. Having your way in such a small thing is foolish when you could lose something much greater for your stubborn selfishness.”

_ Was that… an admission of wrong? _

_ It isn’t an admission until they say it is, _ Hermione told him once as they sat together on the couch,  _ You cannot give them consideration that they could not give you, or nothing will change. _

He scoffed, “Why is it that mother loves you so?”

“She knows me, as I am sure you will find that your Ms. Granger knows you,” Lucius looked at him, those steely silver eyes that were so much like the eyes he saw in the mirror every morning bore into his. “If not, I imagine that your relationship will not last beyond a year. You have too many enemies to build your marriage on sand.”

He scoffed, “Have you met my wife? I’m sure that the Romans would kill to have her sense of structural integrity. She knew you two would come when I didn’t believe you would and had apparently planned it down to not revealing you if you didn't wish to be revealed.”

His eyes widened just a bit before his expression fell back into it’s cool expression.

He turned to look back at the lake, "I never saw anything of myself in you when you were growing up, Draco."

"I know."

"At once a shame and a reason to rejoice, yet seeing you here, seeing you with  _ your  _ Mrs. Malfoy, I am hard pressed to see anything else."

Draco swallowed the weak little sound at those words. He couldn't remember wanting anything more in his life than his father's approval. It was a shame that it took leaving home to get it, but at least, maybe, with it now, with Lucius seeing Draco as his own man after all these years, maybe they’d have a real relationship.

_ Mrs. Malfoy, _ he thought with a small smile.

"Will you come home, Draco?"

"I am home," he said, "Maybe for truly the first time in my life."

He lowered his head a bit, and Draco wondered how deep his love went for Narcissa that the proud and noble Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, seemed almost contrite and ashamed of his actions. He smiled thinking that his love for Hermione had made him let go of a lot of his arrogance and was glad that his parents had a relationship that strong even if he had no idea of that before.

"Will you allow us to be apart of your life again? If not us, your mother?"

He was pretty sure he may never get a true apology, maybe he would, but it wouldn't be tonight. They were both too raw, too exposed or something stubbornly unable to let go of years of pain between them. Two snakes wounded, leaking blood, and watching each other retreat to their own burrows until they could either come to blows or come to terms on another day.

"You will have to ask the lady of the house," he said and turned back towards the party, “Stay out here with your ruminations if you like, but I have a wife to dance the night away with and my impending embarrassment to avoid.”

“Embarrassment?”

“You think my wife is asking innocuous questions about my childhood right now?” Draco asked heading back up the slope, “She is more Slytherin than I am most days.”

He walked away from Lucius and back into the party to see Hermione and Narcissa laughing at the family table. He sat down on the other side and looked at the two of them. 

“And what are my two favorite women giggling about?”

“Your love for peach jam,” Hermione said, “She said you attempted to  _ bathe _ in it.”

Draco’s face heated at the memory, “As I thought.”

“That would explain where all my peach jam always disappeared to whenever you came to my office...” Hermione chuckled, “I will have to show you where I get it and stock your office.”

“And what else have you told my cunning wife, mother?” Draco asked. 

“Nothing too embarrassing, my darling,” her eyes twinkled and Draco glowered at her.

“As if I would believe you.”

Lucius re-entered the tent, his face a bit flushed from the cold and he approached the table. 

“Pardon my interruption,” Lucius said before focusing on Narcissa. He offered her his arm with a slight bow, “If I might have a dance with you, Lady Malfoy?”

She worried her lip and glanced at Draco who schooled his expression into something he hoped seemed impressed, “Is that what you fell for mother?”

She flushed and took Lucius’ hand allowing him to pull her from the chair and escort her to the dancefloor. Hermione leaned over in her chair as he leaned back and wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Your father and mother are nothing like what I expected.”

“You laughed at my father.”

“He doesn’t know you,” she said, “But I hope you’ll give him a chance to. Both of them that is.”

He took her hand and watched them dance, “Only if they give themselves the chance to know you. You’re my wife, Mrs. Malfoy.”

She laughed and squealed as he turned and pulled her into his lap. He kissed her soundly and wrapped his arms around her. 

“Thank you, Hermione.”

“You can thank me by not eating all of my peach jam.”

“I make no promises.”

“Bloody ferret.”

“Know-it-all.”

“Hufflepuff.”

“Gryffindor  _ swot _ .”

She grinned, “ _ Drakie. _ ”

He groaned and she laughed, “You win. You win.”

“I always do,” she kissed his head and hummed. 

As the party died down, leaving them sitting quietly and near exhausted as the sun began to rise the next morning, Lucius and Narcissa came to them. 

“I hope you will come for dinner,” Narcissa said, “After your honeymoon.”

Draco hesitated, but with a squeeze to his hand, Hermione replied, "We'd be delighted. We'll look for your owl."

Narcissa beamed at her and before they left she embraced them both. Lucius looked at Narcissa with a curiously tender expression before offering his hand to Draco.

"Until then, son."

Draco wanted to tell him to shove off, but he remembered Narcissa's pleading and Hermione's request. He met his father's eyes and shook his hand.

"Until then, father."

Lucius took Hermione’s hand and kissed it, "Until then, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Until then, Dad."

All the cool posturing vanished as father and son looked at Hermione as if she'd slapped them both before Narcissa giggled. It was a sound Draco had never heard before.

"Oh, Lucius, your face."

He cleared his throat, took Narcissa by the arm and walked out with all the dignity he could manage.

"Dad?" Draco asked.

She grinned, "He thinks he wants things the way it was because it's familiar, but you inherited more than your looks from him,  _ Hufflepuff. _ "

“You are going to pay for that.”


	4. A Thousand Years

They went to bed in the early hours of the morning after all the guests had gone and they’d cleaned enough that the auto-return charm on the tent would work without a problem. Unfortunately, that meant that they slept until it was almost dinner time. Draco rolled over with a groan as Hermione flitted about the house collecting things to put into an ornate box that had been among the impressive mountain of presents. 

“It’s empty,” Draco said looking into its soft velvet covered insides.

“Of course, it’s empty,” Hermione said, “It’s not for us. It’s for your parents.”

“What?” He frowned, “Oh. Is this the box you were talking about?”

She nodded and placed objects inside. A set of flutes wrapped in red, green, black and gold ribbons neatly and intricately tied in a knot that made his fingers itch. On the bottom of the classes was a Gryffindor crest and a Malfoy crest. There was an ornate hairpin that had come from the elegant knot in her hair, a bouquet of petrified flowers that had been on one of the tables, and the signature flower from her bouquet along with two vials of glowing liquid, one in vibrant gold and the other a brilliant blue. When she was done, she closed the box and latched it closed. Something etched itself into the top of it. A large intricate “D” appeared and filled with Malfoy green ink embossed over the carved Malfoy crest. 

“Let’s get ready, hm? We can still make dinner!”

“What’s going on?” Draco asked.

“It’s a pureblood tradition Narcissa told me about. Did you never learn much about them?”

Draco shrugged, “None of the in-law bits.”

She hopped into the shower and hurried him through getting dressed in formal dining robes. He carried the box and let her sidelong apparate them to Malfoy Manor. Arm in arm, they walked the long path up to the front door and he paused. This would be the first time Hermione had been to the manor since her encounter with Bellatrix.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked at her, “Are you sure about this? I could just give it--”

She moved the knocked attached to the grand door until three rings echoed out. He’d never stop being amazed at how brave she truly was.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” she said, “Everything will be fine.”

Draco wasn’t sure about that, but held her hand and waited for Addy, Narcissa’s elf, to open the door. 

“Master Draco,” she said looking up with her big eyes, “You are here for dinner?”

“Yes, Addy,” he said, “My wife as well.”

“Addy will let your parents know right away. Please come in.”

She opened the door wider and let them in before closing it behind her and popping off. Soon, Addy came back and Narcissa came down the stairs, dressed for dinner and smiling. 

“A pleasant surprise!” Narcissa said, “I thought that you would--” 

She gasped seeing the box in his hands and looked up at him, covering her mouth. Draco swallowed.

“Well… Hermione insisted.”

Narcissa looked at her and she smiled.

“My mother in law is a woman of taste,” she said, “I was told by a woman of similar standing that this was the appropriate gesture.  _ Perfectly traditional, elegant, and tasteful _ even.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened, and she gasped, "M-Mia."

She smiled, "Hello."

Narcissa walked to them and wrapped her arms around Hermione as Lucius came down the stairway. He seemed concerned for a moment before his eyes landed on the box in Draco's arms and widened.

"Thank you, Hermione," Narcissa said drawing back, “Thank you. I--I can’t begin to explain… I can’t begin to express my gratitude.”

Hermione beamed at her. 

“Lucius, darling,” Narcissa said, sniffing and turned to him, “Won’t you come with us to the vault?”

Lucius cleared his throat, but he nodded stiffly. 

“Addy,” Narcissa said and the elf appeared, “Please bring me Draco and Hermione’s wedding announcement.”

Addy popped away as she led Hermione through the halls in the direction that Lucius walked. Draco followed behind watching them together as Narcissa and Hermione spoke about something that they had been discussing through their letters. They walked downstairs to the basement where Addy waited and Lucius was opening the doors to the vault. 

Draco had never been there, and he didn’t remember the door that they’d entered. So he was a little on edge. Hermione gasped looking up at the dimly glowing threads in the ceiling. 

“The… ancestral wards are linked to this vault, aren’t they?”

Draco’s eyes widened as Narcissa and Lucius gasped, “How… could you possibly know that?”

Hermione glanced at Lucius, “I can see it, Lord Malfoy.”

He looked a bit wary, but it vanished beneath a mask of indifference.

“She is part of the family now,” Narcissa said as she took the unopened announcement from Addy’s hand with a thank you, “It would make sense.”

She walked to Draco and placed the letter inside before closing it and stepping aside. 

“Give it to your father.”

Draco looked at her warily but walked to where his father was standing and held it out to him as Narcissa maneuvered Hermione beneath the glittering ceiling to stand on the Malfoy crest on the floor. 

Lucius looked at him before placing his hand on either side of the box. A jolt of magic passed between them and swirled around them from beneath them, it shot out to Hermione and Draco flinched, prepared to drop the box, but he couldn’t release it. Fear struck him as the light captured her, and she remained frozen. A burst of pure blue light shot up into the glittering, shifting glass of the ceiling and ricocheted through the room. 

“Hermione!” Draco tried to pull away, but he was frozen to the spot as the magic pulsed through him and the blue light peeled away the aged, dusty look on the ceiling and lit up the chamber. The vaguely glowing threads grew brighter and wider until the entire ceiling glowed and filled the room with light. The light carried out the entrance they came through and up the stairs and he could feel it coming back through the ground, rushing through him and then hitting Hermione with enough force to lift her off the ground before she fell in a panting heap. Whatever it was let him go finally, and he ran to pick her up. 

“Hermione? Hermione, speak to me, love. Hermione,  _ s’il te plait! _ ”

She groaned and pressed a hand to his chest, “Relax. I’m fine.”

Draco sighed a breath of relief, pulling her close and glaring at Lucius who had the nerve to look surprised, his mouth slightly agape, “What was that? What did you do to her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” Lucius said setting the box in the space that had appeared. The green ink flashed and it sunk beneath the mercurial liquid. The gates flashed and slid closed as Lucius turned to him, and Draco pulled Hermione closer prepared to hex his father and run with Hermione in his arms if he had to.

“Mother, what was that?”

“It was ancestral magic, Draco,” Narcissa said, “I assure you that she isn’t harmed. It certainly didn’t hurt me when we married.”

Draco froze and looked at her, “What?”

“It seems that despite what I would have thought,” Lucius began, “Our ancestors approve of your choice of wife.”

“ _ Lucius. _ ”

“I mean only to say that she is more than welcome here,” Lucius said primly though he seemed slightly shamed, “It will… take some time to reconcile with what I understand of our ancestors, but there is no denying it… Even your mother did not inspire such a reaction when we set our marriage chest in the vault.”

Draco frowned but looked up as the mercurial liquid drifted up into a wall and it became something like the night sky. There in the center was the constellation Draco. 

Lucius scoffed, “Of course.”

Narcissa gave her husband a disapproving look, “ _ Lucius. _ ”

He turned and looked at her with a grin that Draco had never seen on his father’s face, “What else can I expect of  _ Narcissa Black’s  _ son _? _ ”

She rolled her eyes fondly before walking to him, “You decided that you would have me, my light. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Draco frowned at the strange moment of intimacy as his parents looked at one another and then turned to him. 

“Draco,” Hermione said, “You really have to read more about your own traditions.”

Draco scoffed, “I will take that under advisement. Can you stand? Are you certain you are okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, looking up at him with a smirk, “Quite a power treasure trove you have there.”

“What?”

“Give it a second, you should feel it soon.”

Draco frowned but froze feeling something burning, heady and all-consuming rolling through the haze of fear that had gripped him.

“Wh-What?”

“It’s okay,” Hermione whispered, “Just take a deep breath.”

Draco huffed and held onto her until it subsided, but then it didn’t, and he woke up lying in his room in the Malfoy Manor ravenous and burning in his robes. His heart was in his throat and he jumped out of bed, ran down the stairs and found Hermione in one of his mother’s favorite sitting rooms with both of his parents. Narcissa and Hermione were pouring over a photo album as Lucius remained nearby sipping from his wine glass. It was probably Superior Red, but he didn’t know for sure. 

“What… happened?”

“Draco,” Narcissa greeted, “Come in. You must be famished.”

Draco approached the free chair and sat down. In a few moments, he had food to eat and he was practically breathing it in as power crackled around his fingertips. As he finished eating, he realized that the gold inlaid in the walls seemed brighter, the room that had last had a gloomy overcast seemed brighter than he ever remembered it. 

“Why… does the room look new?”

Lucius sipped again, staring unblinking into the fire, “I cannot say if the ancestors were waiting this long for you, your wife, or the two of you together, but they were waiting for something. I’ve had the elves check and the magic that has kept the manor standing, hidden, and impenetrable has been restored to the time when the wards were first erected.”

Draco frowned, “You make it sound like it was decaying.”

Lucius took another drink. It was a gesture that was uncannily familiar to his time when Voldemort was in the manor and every moment was fraught with fear and shame. 

“ _ Lucius, _ ” Narcissa scolded before looking at Draco, “I would imagine that Grimmauld and the other Black properties have undergone a similar transformation.”

As far as Lucius knew, it had been in the time of Armand Malfoy that the wards were created. Several people updated, adjusted, and took hold of the wards through the years, but the magic that sustained the ancient house had been weakening through the ages whether through mishandling or corruption. When the Malfoy and Black houses joined, there had been a small infusion of magic because the Black family’s properties were in slightly better conditions, but with Voldemort in the house and both wars, that had been short-lived. 

“I had been searching for a way to restore them before they collapsed,” Lucius said, “However, I never suspected that it would be as simple as your marriage.”

“ _ Lucius, _ ” Narcissa scolded again and his father had the nerve to look a bit ashamed, “Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.”

He lowered his glass, “Your marriage to Ms. Granger and the observation of traditions.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Was that painful for you?”

“ _ Draco, _ ” Hermione said in that same tone Narcissa had used.

Draco blew out a breath, “ _ Pardon moi. _ ”

Hermione seemed pleased before looking back at the book and laughing, “You were adorable as a baby.”

Draco’s cheeks heated, “Please let us never discuss such things again.”

He prepared to stand up but before he could, his father offered him a glass. 

“Your mother has taken more than just a shine to Ms. Granger,” Lucius said, “I imagine that she will set her loose in the library soon enough. Might I suggest you get comfortable for a moment?”

Draco looked at the glass warily but seeing Narcissa and Hermione getting along so well made his heart light and his stomach turn. He took the glass and the unspoken truce. When Narcissa insisted on a tour and Hermione readily agreed, mentioning she was particularly interested in Narcissa’s garden, Draco knew that it would be a long night ahead of them. 

Or, rather, it would be a long night of he and his father drinking silently and avoiding all the words that had been unspoken between them.

“Come with me, Draco,” Lucius said standing and carrying his glass, “There is one more thing.”

Draco followed him out of the sitting room as Narcissa and Hermione disappeared down the corridor towards the outdoor sitting area. He was impressed that she was taking this all in stride but knew that he’d find her staring out into nothingness after a long bath later marveling or lost in time.

She knew that he’d grew up with a lot of old money, but he was pretty sure that the culture shock was coming soon enough. Lucius led him down a different path to a different vault, but he did not open it. 

“This vault carries a collection of magic from our line and holds in it the collection of ancestral rings meant for the wives of Malfoy men,” he said and gestured to it, “It will choose the ring meant for your wife and with it she’ll be fully accepted by the Malfoy line.”

“All of the Malfoy line?” Draco asked looking at him suspiciously.

Lucius sighed, “Yes.”

“And if I’m not given a ring?” Draco asked.

His lips twitched, “Then, I imagine that your relationship will not last long.”

Draco swallowed and walked to the wall and reached out to the vault. He found that rather than cold metal gates, it was warm and as thin as air. He smelled Hermione’s hair products, the scent of her skin, felt her in his arms as he reached in and something materialized in his hand. He pulled his hand out and looked at the object there. 

It gleamed a brilliant red-gold, like something out of old Viking texts, beautiful and inlaid with subtle precious stones that Draco had no name for. It was heavy with magic, warm in his hand, and older than anything he’d ever encountered. It felt even older than the Malfoy Manor. Lucius hummed as Draco studied the ring and turned it over between his fingers. It would look stunning on her finger. 

“When you give her the ring,” Lucius said, “She is to wear it on her left hand as a symbol of being bonded to the family. The ring you procured for her should be moved to the right hand.”

Draco turned to him, “I… always wondered what mother’s other ring was about.”

“I do not promise to adjust to this quickly,” Lucius said, “But I do promise to strive to be as understanding as I can be.”

“For my sake?” Draco asked, “Or for mother’s?”

“Your mother’s,” he said, “And ours.”

Draco nodded slowly. It wasn’t the best answer, but it was better than nothing. He wondered if that answer would change with the revelation that Mia was Hermione all along. 

“If that is the case, at least, I know you will keep your word.”

He looked at the inside of the band to see the old script that Draco couldn’t read as they went to find Narcissa and Hermione. As expected they were in the garden among Narcissa’s roses that seemed especially vibrant now and chatting about Hermione’s extensive knowledge of wards and ancient runes. They remained there for a while yet, and Draco thought that if he could have evenings like this far into their future, he’d be eternally grateful. 

When they returned to Spinner’s End, he helped her out of her robes and moved the ring he’d bought for her to her right hand. She gasped as he slipped the ancestral ring onto her finger.

“It’s warm.”

Draco smiled, “I believe… it will keep you safe.”

Hermione nodded, “Your mother invited me to tea with the Greengrasses.”

Draco snorted, “Never does anything by halves, my mother. I’m sure she’ll send you robes for the occasion.”

“I’m sure,” she said and Draco met her gaze Hermione looked away from the question in his eyes.

He tilted her head up until their gazes met again. 

“I’ll wait for a thousand years,” he said and smirked, “No more.”

Hermione froze and her laughter bubbled out of her as she leaned into him. 

“I don’t think it will take that long,” she said. 

“Good,” Draco said, “You are a beautiful woman and we share a bed. Imagine me going through the torments of the damned for a thousand years, Hermione.”

She laughed, “A well-used reference. I’m impressed.”

“Just you wait,” he said, “You might be able to take me to that awful primary school reunion of yours.”

“Not in a thousand years!”

In the end, the Slytherin in him, his mother, and his  _ father _ surprisingly had refused to let her do anything else upon hearing how horrible they’d treated Hermione in her younger years. He assumed that his father’s reaction had something to do with finding out that Hermione was Mia and her addition to the family line had done everything that Lucius had been trying to do for years.

“You have my sincerest apologies,” Lucius said one evening as they sat together. Narcissa and Hermione looked up, surprised as Draco stared at his father wondering who he was speaking to. 

“Draco has been right,” Lucius said, “The Malfoy line, for thousands of years, has made their world smaller with their narrow-minded bigotry and controlling nature. I am… grateful to you, Hermione, for saving Draco and us from that same fate.”

Draco looked at Hermione who grinned, “Well, a very high born man once told me that love is the only reason to save the foolish.”

Lucius’ eyes widened and all the color drained from his face as she grinned at him and Narcissa looked positively delighted. 

“I am glad that he and my father shared similar values,” she chuckled.

“You…” Lucius gasped and then looked at Narcissa, “How long have you known?”

“Since they brought the box,” Narcissa said. 

“And you did not see fit to tell me?”

“I thought you would have figured it out, darling,” she smirked and sipped her tea, “You were Head Boy, were you not?”

Hermione and Draco snickered at Lucius’indignant face. Draco looked forward to seeing that look, and many others, on his face more often in the future. 

When their children demanded to sit on his lap or be read stories for the millionth time. When a rambunctious toddler came screaming to her grandfather and fell asleep drooling on his expensive cloak.

He prayed that their children would throw Lucius off his pedestal of indifference every chance they got the same way Hermione would.

In fact, he was counting on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not be alarmed. I'm cross-posting this on [fanaticmusings](https://fanaticmusings.com/fanfiction/harry-potter/a-thousand-years/)! I tend to update there more frequently because I can schedule posts, but the works are the same.


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